


A Day in the Death of Bellamy Blake

by AllThingsEnd



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angry Bellamy, Gen, Prisoners, The 100 - Freeform, Torture, Tortured, grounders, prisoner bellamy, prisoner clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:03:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThingsEnd/pseuds/AllThingsEnd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not long after they torched the Grounders while hiding in the drop ship. Bellamy is not an asshole. The Commander dispatches a few Grounders to bring the Sky People leader (Clarke) to her and do what they must to stop the others from killing any more Grounders. One particularly pissed Grounder gets his hands on Bellamy and does some serious damage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Should Have Moved On

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fan fiction ever. Also: I am a violent person. Get ready for violence. Clearly I do not own these characters, but this plot and these words are mine. Please do not steal them from me. And I would appreciate comments, if you have anything to say. Thank you for reading.

"Clarke, we should move on. These Grounders are different." As Bellamy spoke, he looked over Clarke's head and over his own shoulders, unable to not be on guard.

"That is why we need to stay."

"They will attack head-on, and this is not a fight we can win."

"Bellamy, these Grounders are different. You're right. They are not killing us! They could have killed Monty and Jasper the other day, but they didn't! They were ten feet away from them, and they just walked away."

"They would have killed them. Something is holding them back. I don't like it. And they are clearly watching us."

"But they want us alive for some reason. They need us alive. What if they want to make a deal, or an alliance?" Clarke tilted her head, trying to get through to Bellamy. He shifted his weight and licked his lips. The firelight lit half of his face; the rest was shrouded in darkness.

"Clarke, listen to me-"

"Bellamy, they have not hurt any of us in a long time. These might even be different Grounders!"

"We need to get back to the drop ship. We need to abandon this place. It is too dangerous here." A stick snapped, and echoed. Clarke and Bellamy jumped and looked around. Bellamy brought up his gun. "Jasper? Miller?" He called quietly into the dark. "Harper?"

"It might have just been an animal," Clarke offered, but she kept looking around.

"Or a Ground-" Bellamy's voice turned into a muffled shout, and Clarke spun around in time to see a hand clamped tightly over his mouth, and an arm around his neck. His eyes were wide with shock, and then fear as he was dragged roughly backwards.

"Bellamy!" Clarke lunged forward, but he was gone. She ran into the dark, spinning and shouting, until she heard frantic grunts of effort, then a short burst of gunfire. Then an abrupt thud, a gasp of defeat that was distinctly Bellamy's, and then silence. "Bellam-!" Now it was Clarke's turn to have her voice cut off as she was grabbed as Bellamy had been. She yelped, and drove her heal into the shins of the person behind her, but then the hand came off of her mouth and brought something down hard on her head, and she crumpled unconscious into her attacker's arms.

\--

Bellamy awoke with his hands bound in rope in front of him, and his ankles tied together. He kicked his feet and bit at his wrist tie, until he noticed Clarke lying feet away, bound similarly. She was not moving. He crawled over to her.

"Clarke," he whispered, and shook her shoulder as best he could. His head throbbed, and Clarke's had blood dried into her hair. "Clarke, c'mon," Suddenly the wall across from them cracked and harsh light stabbed through, and a door swung open. Bellamy squinted up at the three Grounders that entered. "What the hell is this?"

"You are the one they call Bellamy, and this is Clarke." One of the Grounders gestured as he spoke. "You are the leaders of Sky Crew."

"Where are we?"

"Far from home."

Clarke stirred. "Bellamy?"

"Clarke, I'm here. Grounders took us. They're here." And suddenly Clarke was awake.

"What do you want with us?" she looked the three Grounders over, sitting up.

"You killed hundreds of our warriors. You made fire out of the ground. You burned them alive, and yet you live."

"They attacked us!"

"You slaughtered them."

"They would have slaughtered us!"

The Grounder approached Clarke quickly and squatted down in front of her. She edged back the inch or two until she hit the wall. Bellamy tried to move between them, but the Grounder put his hand in the middle of Bellamy's chest and took a fistful of his shirt, then slammed his back against the wall. His skull made a terrible crack as it bounced off the stone, and he got the point. The Grounder returned his attention to Clarke.

"You're the leader. It's you they respond to."

"You clearly haven't been paying that close attention when you watch us. Half of them hate me."

"Because they know the other half respects you. They fear what you can persuade the others to do. You are their leader."

Clarke squinted her eyes at her capturer. "You're not here on your Commander's orders, are you?" Bellamy looked over at Clarke, surprised at her threatening question. The Grounder tilted his head, inspecting Clarke.

"I don't see how that is any of your concern, Sky Girl."

"The Commander ordered that attack against us. Why would they now what us alive?"

"The Commander is furious. Ordered us to do whatever it takes to get revenge. So, no, the Commander does not know exactly what we plan to do to the rest of you. All she specified was that she got to deal with the leader herself."

Clarke's mouth opened in silence for a moment, but Bellamy spoke first.

"We were defending ourselves!" he yelled.

Clarke found words. "We did what we needed to do to survive!"

"And now you'll pay for what you did." The Grounder tightened his grip on Bellamy's shirt, and Bellamy's hands jumped up to the massive fist, trying to pull the fingers apart in vain. The Grounder did not take his eyes off of Clarke as he drew Bellamy forward and slammed him into the wall again.

"Stop it!" Clarke hollered. The Grounder cracked Bellamy's head against the wall again, and he groaned dully, hands losing strength on the Grounder's fist. "Stop! What do you want?"

"Revenge. And this is your military leader. He killed them."

"That's not what happened!"

"To us, it is what happened." He smashed Bellamy's head against the wall once more, then let him go, and he did not move except to slide down the wall a bit. Clarke moved toward him, but the Grounder grabbed her and pulled her to her feet, and dragged her out kicking and screaming.


	2. The Blood of Bellamy Blake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now to the fun part.

Bellamy awoke with a throbbing head. His wrists hurt and his arms were sore, and after a moment he figured out why. He had his wrists bound to the wall, separated and a bit above his head. His ankles were roped to the floor about a foot apart. Clarke was gone. He was alone. He immediately began pulling at his restraints, even after he knew he was not going anywhere. He grunted with increasing rage as he flung his limbs around in useless effort. At length, the door opened and a single Grounder entered, shutting it behind him. This was the man from before. Bellamy froze. The Grounder stood squarely in front of Bellamy and regarded him in silence. Bellamy grew impatient.

"Where is Clarke?" he demanded.

"She is on her way to see the Commander."

"Let us go. We had no other choice. This is war."

The Grounder lunged forward suddenly, and grabbed Bellamy around the neck with one hand, and he lifted him off the ground. Bellamy gagged for air, but none came.

"This IS war, Sky Boy! I'm surprised you caught on, you and your delicate kind." He let Bellamy go, and he sagged against his ropes before regaining his footing and his breath.

"What do you want from me?"

"You are not that important, Sky Boy. It's not just you. It's your whole people. You're a leader, and you will be the example."

"Examp-uh!" Bellamy's voice escaped him as the Grounder threw his fist across his face. The headache instantly returned to the raging pain of when he first awoke. He slowly lifted his head back up and looked at the Grounder in the eyes. "I see. Your example."

"Oh yes," the Grounder threw another punch the other way, then drove his fist into his stomach. Bellamy gasped and pulled into himself as much as he could, bound as he was.

"What's your big plan, then? Beat me up and return me to my camp with a black eye and a message?"

The Grounder punched Bellamy's jaw hard, and his head snapped to the side. He tasted blood.

"Not quite." The Grounder grabbed Bellamy by the hair and jerked his head back, exposing his neck, and he leaned in very close to his captive. "First, I am going to whip the everliving shit out of you. Then I am going to have some fun with a knife. And who knows," the Grounder's hand slid up on of Bellamy's arms to his hand. "Maybe I'll remove some of the less necessary appendages," and the man pulled Bellamy's ring finger back until it broke. Bellamy gasped in pain, doing his best to suppress his reaction. "Then I am going to drag you back into your own camp and string you up and your people will watch you die. And then we will do what we will with the rest of them. You've got some very pretty boys and girls in that group of yours. That sister you've got? My, my." Bellamy thrashed, a gasp of anger escaping him, but the rope and the Grounder's hand in his hair help him almost perfectly still. "No matter. You'll all be dead soon."

"You can't kill us all! What do you want?"

"I told you. The Commander wants revenge. And so do I. Because you know who was among those you killed? My brother!" The Grounder released Bellamy's hair and slammed his fist into his chin, the back of the young man's head smacking into the wall. Bellamy closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry. But you have killed many of our people."

"Your people. I could laugh." Bellamy looked at him. "You bicker like children. Attack each other like enemies. You die in front of them and we might not even have to attack. They'll all tear each other apart."

"You don't understand, this is not all of our people! There are more of us!" Bellamy yelled, but the Grounder punched his jaw again. And again, and again, and he did not stop until his fist came back bloody.

"That's enough, Sky Boy." He reached to his belt and pulled off a cruel leather whip. He held it up in front of his captive's eyes. Bellamy tried to squirm away, but it did nothing. The Grounder suddenly lashed Bellamy across the chest, dragging a muffled shout from him. And again. And again. Bellamy abandoned suppressing his cries and screamed now whenever the leather passed across him. After a while the Grounder dropped his whip. Bellamy, slick with sweat and with blood, rolled his head forward. The Grounder gripped Bellamy's shirt in both of his hands and ripped it open. Cut into his flesh were lacerations matching those that had made flimsy his shirt. The Grounder retrieved and brandished his whip again, and Bellamy braced. It sliced across his damaged chest, blood flinging from the ends of the leather stops. Bellamy bit his lip hard as the Grounder lashed him again and again, the remaining shreds of his shirt falling away as the threw his head back and grunted in pain until his entire torso was raw, and he could not help but scream.

"Stop!" he cried, squirming and pulling at the ropes. "You can't-" Suddenly the Grounder lunged, and Bellamy started, his voice lost. The Grounder had one hand on the side of Bellamy's face, holding him still, and the other held a knife against his throat.

"I can do whatever I please," he hissed.

"Then do it. Kill me."

"Not yet, Sky Boy. You wish. They need to see you die." With that he flicked a shallow cut into Bellamy's collarbone and released him, but he did not step back. He dragged the blade lower on his torso, not hard enough to pierce the skin, until he reached an open would and he twisted it into the reddened flesh. Bellamy hardened his face and stared straight ahead blankly, suppressing his whimpers as best he could. The Grounder angled the blade and ran it down the entire length of the slash, further opening the gash and shedding fresh blood. Bellamy shivered and flinched and moaned. The Grounder stepped back for a moment, examining his victim. Bellamy glared. "Still stubborn. I can respect that." With that the Grounder plunged his knife into Bellamy's shoulder, forcing a scream from the young man. The blade scraped against his collarbone and sank into his flesh, then twisted cruelly as the Grounder turned the knife. Bellamy's face streaked with sweat as he was unable to hold back his desperate screams. Then the Grounder yanked it from his shoulder, sending searing pain shooting through Bellamy's body, and stabbed it into Bellamy's thigh, enduring another piercing shriek.

"Stop!' Bellamy shouted, and the Grounder turned the blade again. "Stop it!"

"No!" The Grounder pulled the knife out and sank it in again an inch lower. "I will not stop until you have no hope! Because my brother and so many of my fellow warriors all suffered, and you killed them before they even knew there was no hope!" He stabbed Bellamy's thigh again. "But the rest of us? We knew. So you and your people will all know that you are doomed and dying. And you will feel it!" He stabbed again.

"Then kill me!"

"NO!" He yanked out the knife and thrust it into the young man's thigh once more. Bellamy's scream was choked by tears. Then the Grounder got a twisted grin on his face. He dragged the knife out of Bellamy's thigh and scraped it up the side of his arm, toward the hand with the broken finger.

"Don't," Bellamy's voice was hard, and deep.

"That is not up to you," the Grounder replied, and he pierced the skin joining Bellamy's pointer finger to his palm, pressing into it until blood leaked down into the rope around his wrist. In a swift movement, he pressed it all the way down until it scraped against the wall, and Bellamy's finger was sliced off completely, earning the Grounder a shuddering scream of pain from his victim. Bellamy's hand shook, and blood flowed from where his appendage should have been. "I've never done that before," the Grounder teased. "I quite enjoyed that. Why stop now?" Without any hesitation, he removed Bellamy's middle finger, showing his toothy smile at each of Bellamy's useless screams.

"Stop it! Stop!"

"Don't kill the fun. Not yet." The Grounder moved over to Bellamy's other hand, and the young man's breath shook as he anticipated the pain. Instead of removing a finger, the Grounder sliced a gash down his pinky finger that went to the bone. Bellamy shook, but he managed to keep silent. Until the Grounder suddenly stabbed Bellamy's same thigh again, which earned him a very satisfying scream from his prisoner.

The Grounder left the blade in Bellamy's leg as he stepped back. Bellamy's head lolled to the side, but he forced it up and glared into the Grounder's eyes. Blood leaked from his mouth, and his breath was shallow and strained. The Grounder gave him a smirk, then smashed his fist into the side of his head, and with a pained exhale Bellamy went limp, his body sagging and arms pulling taut against the ropes.


	3. Enjoy Every Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grounder keeps his word.

When Bellamy awoke, his arms were too sore to pull himself up, and his leg was in too much pain to stand on. He hung helplessly as he took in the sight of his blood-soaked pant leg and torn up chest. His body buzzed with terrible pain. He looked up at the wrist of his good arm (comparatively) and pulled, but it did not budge. The rope around his other wrist was partially worn through. It was weaker. Bellamy took a deep breath, and jerked his arm against the bond. Pain shot from the stab wound in his shoulder and he cried out. His wrist was still secure. He heard a voice speak in the Grounder language, and looked up as the door opened and the one from before entered, leaving the door open behind him.

"Good morning, Sky Boy." Bellamy glared from under his chaotic hair. "Enjoy every breath," the Grounder grinned, and reached fro the rope securing his bad arm. He sliced it off with a knife bigger than the one before, cutting a thin red line into Bellamy's palm. The moment his arm was free, he swung at the Grounder's head, but the man caught him around the wrist and instantly twisted the arm behind Bellamy's back, forcing a piercing scream as the wound in his shoulder stretched, and the flow of blood increased. "I'd rather you not do that again," the Grounder whispered it right into his ear. "And I think you'd refer it that way, too." He tugged the arm again and Bellamy groaned, and he was released as the Grounder cut the other rope. Bellamy collapsed to the floor, landing intentionally on his good leg. The Grounder hardly gave him a moment before binding his hands in front of him. He hacked the top off the ground so that his prisoner's ankles were free but the rope was still looped around them. He pulled Bellamy to his feet roughly, supporting most of his weight.

"I can't walk," Bellamy grunted.

"That is not my problem," the Grounder gripped the tie between Bellamy's wrists and dragged him toward the door. Bellamy yelled out in pain, but he had no choice but to move. He was pulled through a small Grounder camp. None of them were surprised to see them. A number of them smirked and began to follow When they reached the horses, the Grounder pulled a rope from a bag his horse carried. Bellamy shook his head in a silent, hopeless plead as the pan tied Bellamy's wrists to the horse, and mounted. Some of the other Grounders mounted as well, and Bellamy's torturer kicked back his heels and the rest did the same, and Bellamy was yanked forward, and the march of excruciating pain began. He did his best not to put weight on his bad leg, but it was unavoidable. He left behind him a trail of blood. He fell five times; once, he managed to get up almost right away. Three, the hours dragged him a ways before he could regain his feet. The final time his feet could not keep up with the horse and he tripped over himself and fell forward, the Grounder dropped off of his horse and stomped over to him. The man rolled Bellamy on to his back with his foot and looked down into the weakened eyes.

"You've lost a lot of blood, Sky Boy. I am impressed you made it this far." A few of the other Grounders snickered. "No worries. Not much farther to go." He untied the rope from the horse and picked Bellamy up as though he were a child, his limp body laying across both of the Grounder's arms. His head felt like it was pushing into itself, throbbing painfully as his body grew ever weaker. Blood dripped from his shoulder and chest and flowed from his leg, and the long rope dragged behind them as the Grounder carried him. His vision blurred as deep fatigue overcame him.

\--

He came to very slowly, the darkness holding on to him as long as it could. But the pain soon wrapped itself around him and pulled him back into consciousness. One side of his face was made uncomfortable by a scratching. He was on his back on the forest floor.

"Bellamy?" Somebody said his name. "Oh my god! You killed him!" It was a young woman's voice. Bellamy's eyes fluttered open, and Harper and Brian came into view. Then more. Then Octavia.

"Bellamy?!" Her voice was shrill with shock and fear. She began to run forward, but a pair of thick boots near Bellamy's head shifted, and Brian grabbed Octacia's arm and held her back.

"He's alive!" Harper called. Bellamy tried to look at his sister, but his eyes would not focus.

"What have you done?" Octavia demanded, shaking Brian off of her but holding her ground.

"We have not done it yet, Sky Girl." The voice belonged to the grounder above him. Bellamy rolled his read with great effort so that he saw a sky choked by trees and a Grounder with a bow pulled taut, arrow aimed at the gathering crowd. "Morning, Sky Boy. You're just in time." Bellamy began to lift his head, but the Grounder put his toe against his cheek and turned it back to the side, so Bellamy could see the drop ship behind all of the teenagers from the Arc, and the book pressed into Bellamy's face. He grunted and brought up his wrists, still bound together, to try to push the boot off to no avail. He grit his teeth. Octavia stiffened. Then the Grounder replaced the boot on Bellamy's face with a hand on the rope, and he yanked it roughly, pulling Bellamy up awkwardly, his head draping back, until he was sitting, one leg straight out in front of him and the other askew, the Grounder holding him up with the rope.

"Let him go!" Octavia shouted.

"What the hell?" The new voice belonged to Murphy. The Grounder seemed to enjoy the audience.

"Remember when you burned to death so many of my people? You better remember, because their bodies still adorn your home!" He pointed aggressively to his nearest example. A charred ribcage and skull. "We remember. We will not forget. And neither will you, after we take our revenge."

"We were defending ourself!" Octavia screamed and took a step forward. The Grounder with the bow pointed it at her head, and she took notice.

"So I have heard. It was quite the attack for a defending party. So we are here, responding in kind, and defending the honor of those you murdered by attacking your leaders.

"Leaders?" Miller paused. "Where is Clarke??"

"On her way to see the Commander. Direct orders. But I would be more worried about your own fates than hers." The Grounder tossed the end of the rope up high and it looped around a tree branch, and he fed it up until he could grab the free end. "Specifically, the fate of this excellent young man."

"Don't you dare-" Octavia began, but the archer released the arrow. It slammed into her shoulder, and she was thrown to the ground with a shout. Brian and Harper dropped to their knees to help her.

"No!" Bellamy bellowed, his voice hoarse and quieter than he intended. But he was heard.

"You have no say in this, Sky Boy."

"What do you want?" Murphy demanded, stepping up beside Miller. "We fought for our lives. Welcome to war, you-" his voice was cut off as an arrow slid into his stomach. The crowd of teenagers gasped and shouted. Murphy groaned, then he collapsed. His hands were covered in blood as he felt around the arrow, panicked. "What the hell?!"

"Do not think you know war better than I do, boy!" the archer spat. "I am a warrior! You are a child. You are all weak! You do not belong here." He spat onto the ground. A few bent down to help Murphy, but their faces gave away their lack of hope. "Enjoy each breath." The Grounder smirked.

The man holding Bellamy's rope looked at each of the Sky People in turn. "You have worn my patience thin." He yanked on the rope, and slowly began to haul Bellamy up. The young man gasped, and moaned, and as the tips of his feet were pulled off the ground, he screamed in pain, his shoulders and wrists bearing his entire weight. Blood dripped down him, pooling on the ground. The others wanted desperately to help him, but another Grounder had drawn back his bow, and they dared not test them. Bellamy's face was contorted in pain, his body hanging helplessly. The Grounder pulled out a sinister, hooked blade. "This is for my people." And in a single swift movement, he sliced it across Bellamy's stomach, tearing his abdomen open. Octavia and others screamed, but her voice was the most tormented, even more so than Bellamy's, who bellowed in unbearable pain. "You do not even deserve a death by 100 cuts. That is too merciful for a killer like you. You shall feel all that pain at once!" He stabbed his blade into Bellamy's so far untouched leg, and stepped back. Bellamy writhed and panted. Octavia screamed from where she lay, struggling to get to her feet.

"FLOAT YOU!" She screeched at the Grounders. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!"

Suddenly the air cracked. A gunshot. Bellamy's head snapped to the side, then he fell silent and still, blood leaking from the fresh bullet wound in his head. Octavia gasped, and the Grounder stepped back in surprise. Soon enough all eyes were on Murphy, who was standing shakily, holding a gun that was still pointed at Bellamy.

"Mercy kill," he mumbled, then he dropped the gun and collapsed, and those around him scurried away from his body. One felt his pulse. He was dead.

"Brave, brave, Sky Boy." The Grounder seethed with anger. "Brave only because he was done suffering. Unlike all of you!" The Grounders all shouted as they suddenly stormed the crowd, brandishing knives and swords. Some of the teenagers screamed, but from between them stepped those with guns. And they battled.

\--

The carnage left bodies strewn about the entire camp. Blood soaked the grass and dirt. From the darkening dusk stepped Octavia, bloodied but very much alive. She help a gun confidently. For a moment she watched her older brother's body as it swayed ever so slightly in the light breeze, the drip of blood having almost completely ceased. Then she turned around, and behind her stood what remained of those from the Arc. Brian held a gun to the head of a Grounder, who was on his knees, bound and gagged. He wiped a hot tear from his cheek, failing in his attempts not to glance over at the mutilated of Miller. Octavia walked up the Grounder and looked down at him.

"Take us to Clarke," she demanded.


End file.
